The Dark Crystal: Trivergence
by Jade Griffin
Summary: This was my submission to the Jim Henson's "The Dark Crystal" Author Quest, which sought a new author for a new adventure in "The Dark Crystal" series. Trivergence refers to the conjunction of the three suns but also the three perspectives of Skeksis, urRu, and Gelfling.
1. Chapter 1

The Dark Crystal: Trivergence

by Megan Kellermeyer

 _jade_griffin_

Chapter 1

The ragged breathing of skekTek grated on skekLach's ear holes, making him tighten his grip on the Scientist's arm. The feared wafting off this weasel of knowledge was enough to curl his beaked lips into a grin as he whispered, "I'll ask once more and you'd best answer with the truth. Did you make the poison which killed skekVar?"

"No!" The loud rasp of skekTek carried down the corridor. He no doubt hoped someone might hear them.

The Collecter sneered, unconcerned about being found interrogating this lowly Skeksis brother. "Yet you do not deny he was poisoned. I asked skekSa for details on skekVar's death when he made port. The others wanted to know as well. Except you. It was like you already knew." He squeezed the Scientist's arm until he felt bones grating together.

The Scientist struggled under skekLach's grip. "It wasn't me! I swear! Someone else wasn't curious. Someone else knew!"

He'd been so sure it was skekTek, he couldn't recall who else hadn't been keen on investigating the circumstances of the suspicious death of the General. As the Collector, it was his job to gather information as well as rare foodstuffs, objects, and worthy subjects for essence extraction amongst the Podling and Gelfling communities; all for the benefit of their esteemed Emperor.

"Who?" he demanded with a rough shake that rocked the Scientist's whole body.

"Once you know, he'll find out." The Scientist began to chuckle. It crescendoed into hysterical laughter. "Then not even the Emperor can save you!"

He released skekTek with a frustrated shove, not liking his dodginess, nor what was implied.

No matter how they loathed one another, murder was rarely considered. And yet, it had happened. The desire to shift the balance of power to oneself ever-present, there was an order to achieving things; a necessary hierarchy; one which had been completely ignored by someone in their group.

His cackles slipping into whimpers, skekTek told him, "If you seek your own ruination, look at the style of the General's death and who is most expert in such ways." The Scientist pulled away and skekLach didn't stop him, not even when he slunk off down the corridor to his laboratory.

The Collector knew all available details of the General's death before the body deteriorated to dust. The Mariner said the General fell over and died, his body having seized up. Poison was found at the scene, in the General's favorite goblet. Because their most recent acquisition of Gelfling had gotten loose on the ship right before, the Mariner concluded it must've been one of them and executed the lot of them. The Collector doubted such a theory. How would a Gelfling from so far away get hold of a poison distilled from a plant which grew only around the Castle? It must've been Skeksis. What skekLach couldn't get at was why. Beyond hating each other, what could have driven one of them to kill another? More specifically, who hated the General so much they'd mark him for death?

At first, skekUng the Enforcer came to mind. The shock on skekUng's face when the Emperor denied his request of a promotion to General a mere day after skekVar's demise made the Enforcer a prime suspect. However, the Enforcer was not a poison-user. He was more skilled in brute force and throwing his weight around than with more elegant forms of sabotage. Going down the list of fellow Skeksis, only one stood out. Yes, there was another amongst them who practiced the finer arts of execution. Poison a staple in his arsenal, the individual also had motive. His wild nature went beyond the natural evil and volatility of normal Skeksis. So much so that skekLach thought twice about invading his room. He stroked his slim goatee in silent deliberation as he walked, yet still found himself drawn to the floor of the Castle devoted solely to their bedchambers.

The Collector let his eyes move in a slow arc, surveying the eighteen doorless archways attached to the circular anteroom. Caution was tossed aside by the need to know. He strode across the spiral-carved floor, ignoring the beautiful mosaics under his clawed feet. To the left of the Emperor's lavish chambers lay the room of skekMal the Hunter. Carved into that room's archway were images none could ignore: snarling darkhounds, snapping sandjaws, and lunging terrorfowl. They were twisted and gnarled into and out of each other in a threatening dance, their dark eyes sneering in every direction. To even look at the archframe was to receive skekMal's threat but skekLach cast aside the warning and stood peering in from the doorless threshold.

 _Focus! Ignore the carvings and listen for footsteps!_ The Collector scolded himself before attempting to scan the unlit interior of the Hunter's room. Last heard, skekMal was on a hunt. That Skeksis rarely did anything else. Still, one must be wary.

He put one foot in, wondering if he dare go back for a small set of glow crystals or simply click the ones together which he could make out along the wall. He'd prefer not to make any noise while infiltrating chambers as forbidden as the Emperor's, and he'd have to time the extent of the resonance so their glow would last a short time and not give away the fact that someone had been within.

Chancing it, skekLach stepped near a long, ornate desk and reached for the closest set of glow crystals. His fingers made the barest calculated contact with them just before he found himself thrown to the floor with a sickening crack, a huge weight on his breastplate and slim, nimble digits clutched around his throat, squeezing ever tighter. The dim light of the jostled glow crystals awoke and illuminated the cold, fierce face of skekMal the Hunter.

In his panic, skekLach writhed under the surprisingly heavy weight of the smaller Hunter. Tiny sparks of breath still made their way to his lungs but it wasn't enough! He scrabbled and scratched but the Hunter easily shrugged off his efforts.

The chokehold skekMal exerted upon his current adversary was not intended to crush a windpipe but to hold the struggling skekLach in perpetual panic. He loomed over his prey, sneered menacingly. "You have poked into my affairs too many times, Collector. It's time I poked back."

With the deftness of his profession, he drew one of the crystal daggers from his belt and made a precise vertical slice down skekLach's face, ruining his left eye.

The shriek of pain thrust from his throat rattled the bedchamber. His struggles turned from attempted escape to anguished writhing.

The Hunter dropped his hold in disgust. He wiped clean his blade on the Collector's own robes and exited his room. Let the Collector howl in agony by himself. No one would care if skekLach hurt himself, and skekLach wasn't stupid enough to tell the others what really happened. Not that it mattered if he did. The Hunter had a great appreciation for prey that challenged him. What bigger challenge than your own kind?


	2. Chapter 2

A little tickle of sound met Rian's ears as he walked the patrol route with his father. He stopped, crouched, ears turning toward the presumed location. Wooden guard staff clutched and at the ready, he whispered. "...Did you hear something?"

Riol's brows rose. "Like what?"

The young Gelfling strained to catch another hint of it. Nothing lingered but the breathing of his unconcerned father and the occasional scuttling of some creature which had found its way into the inner Castle. "It sounded like... maybe a scream? I don't know."

Riol listened, then eyed his son with a grin. "This place with all its crystals, it makes odd noises sometimes. You'll get used to it. Try not to be so jumpy. You're a Woodland Gelfling, not one of those Grottan."

Rian snorted and rolled his eyes, then adopted a less tense posture. Grottan were rarely seen, even by those living near their home in the Cave of Obscurity. Grottan Gelfling had the reputation for being mysterious and secretive and not keen on outsiders. Woodland Gelfling were inclined to create - make tools, grow foods, establish peace, and such - but, every now and then, something got Rian all tensed up: a catch of sound, a scurry of insect, the shuffle of someone walking by. Not very Woodland-like.

Rian nodded, agreeing with his father. "I know. Sometimes... I don't know. I guess I just need to get used to this place. But, if it's so safe here, what are we needed for?"

Before Riol answered, the scuttling of a purple crystal crab called him to action. The elder Gelfling whacked it with his guard staff as crustacean went by. Once stunned, Riol picked it up and replied, "To keep the vermin at bay, I'd assume. How about you hold onto this thing until we can get it outside?"

Rian reluctantly took the crystalline crustacean from his father, careful to hold it only by the beautiful amethysts jutting from the shell. It was waking and he didn't want to look like an idiot on his first day, wandering around with a bleeding hand because he let a crystal crab get the better of him.

Naturally curious, Rian let his mind wander on all he'd seen so far at the Castle. It wasn't much yet. He barely had a look at one of the revered Skeksis before being handed his token staff and sent with his father. He'd so far questioned everything, much to his father's annoyance. And still so much to know, to discover, and to question. It was that last trait which got him promoted to Woodland Guardsman of his tribe in the first place and, without that honor, he'd never have been eligible for Castle guard duty. Rian decided to shrug off his father's comments as an attempt to instill humility. Good luck with that! Such was a Vapra virtue. Those Gelfling had quiet ways of knowledge and a pale complexion which reeked of wisdom. Perhaps this trine he could visit their homecity during the Dusk Celebration.

Which reminded him... "Have you heard anything about our Tree Walkers Festival? Will we be needed here at the Castle or can we all attend next Dyingsunday?" Rian asked.

"Oh, we'll all be there. The Skeksis don't like to keep us from our traditions."

"Good. I heard the Spriton Clan invited the Skeksis to their Dusk Festival a few days ago but none accepted." Rian grinned, adding, "Wouldn't it really get them if the Skeksis accepted our invitation?"

Riol shook his head at the futility of that idea. "They don't attend many functions outside the Castle anymore. Here. We can cast the thing from here." He pointed out the veranda attached to their hall just ahead.

A cloud-spattered sky stared down at them when they emerged. Riol glanced up at the three suns forever chasing one another, barely visible behind the thick cloud cover. "Skeksis aren't like us. They have their own ways. Just keep out of their bedchambers and the Scientist's workrooms and you'll be fine."

"But why? Why his?"

"Some things aren't meant for curious Gelfling to know." Riol swung his staff down in a slow arc and tapped his son on the head to make his point. "They have magics and other things which would get you in trouble. Mind what I say."

Rian sighed, weighing his father's serious tone against his own instincts. Humility was one thing to ask of him. Tempering his curiosity was another. The only thing which stayed his impulses lay in his great desire to honor his family. On this trait, all Gelfling were one. Being allowed in the Castle as a Gelfling guard gave him that chance. He needed to show them all he was meant to be here and he couldn't muck it up by poking around where he shouldn't. "Alright. You have my word."

"Good. Now let that thing go."

Rian leaned over the edge of his vantage along the Castle's exterior, held out the crystal crab with its legs kicking the air, and let it drop to the scant gray-greenery before it splashed into the murky waters of the Black River below. They were fairly tough creatures. He had no doubt it survived the fall and would thrive in the nearby forest.


	3. Chapter 3

The thick curtain to his hovel was drawn shut; a clear sign that urSen did not wish to be disturbed. Presumably clear... The material shuddered briefly and harsh light from the setting Rose Sun flashed painfully into the room. The injured Monk jerked away, sheltering his good eye from the stabs of glare. Who...?

A lone shadow fell over urSen, who blinked to clear his vision in the welcome shade. Ah. His visitor was the somber and often silent urVa the Archer. Not so silent today it seemed.

The Archer took another step in, allowing the hovel's curtain to slide off his back and steep the room in darkness. "How is the eye?"

Sighing, urSen settled his head to the resting couch. "My left sight is gone but I will heal."

The Archer made a single fluid movement where he placed a small basket beside his wounded urRu brother, then followed through with opening all his hands to bid acceptance of the gift. "To heal you swiftly."

The Monk hummed a note echoing his surprise and worry. His head craned from its rest toward the basket, upper left arm following the motion. One finger traced a circle, swirling back the patch of cloth hiding the contents. Within lay a variety of herbs but it was as he'd feared. His good eye saw urVa clearly and cast a worried look the Archer's way. "These grow beyond the borders of our Valley."

"Yes," urVa confirmed. The blaring unease of urSen went ignored. He reached down to gather some of the mending herbs, intending to administer them himself if his brother was too weak.

The Monk covered the basket, thwarting urVa's assistance. His head returned to the resting couch with a long sigh. "It is dangerous to leave the Valley of the Stones. Please tell urNol-"

"I collected these myself."

"You?" Shock shadowed urSen's face in the dim hovel.

It was unusual for any urRu to leave the Valley but, on occasion, urNol sought a new herb beyond their protected home. When leaving in the past, the Herbalist was accompanied by urGoh the Wanderer. With urVa, the matter of such a venture was complex. The Archer made a promise not long ago to never pass the borders of their home. The promise now broken, urSen felt little ripples of discord and unbalance flitting in the air like worrisome botherflies.

"Yes," confirmed urVa in the harsh silence. "I knew of your injury before being told and was overwhelmed by guilt. I asked urNol for instruction on the proper herbs to gather but felt it my own burden. I would not allow him to risk himself in my place."

Having said his peace, urVa bowed lower still. On his upward swing, he turned the move into a graceful spin and exited.

The Monk contemplated those parting words, and the parting form of urVa with his bow slung across his back. Often, urVa showed greater sensitivity when it came to his Skeksis half. If the Archer felt guilt over the matter of his Monk brother's missing eye, there was little doubt that his own counterpart was originally wounded by urVa's; skekMal the Hunter.

A light scuffing outside told the Monk he'd another visitor.

"Is it urVa?" queried urSen of the individual currently outside his home.

"No."

That voice belonged to urSu the Master, their leader. The Monk thought of saying nothing but knew no other way of helping urVa. "You know he broke his vow?"

"Yes."

The scuffing resumed as urSu the Master moved on.

When urSu found the Archer, he was studiously practicing the art of meditative movement, his bow poised in a position of stability on a single triangular stone off to one side of the meditation spiral. It was a sight to admire, urVa's dance of gesture and balance, a symphony of motion bent toward the return of harmony disrupted by his recent transgression. One of the Archer's lesser-known talents, urSu encouraged this art of motion as often as he could.

"Dance of Flowers?" queried urSu with interest and approval.

The Archer ended the sequence with upper arms toward the sky and lower toward the earth, right leg in front and left leg behind with knees bent at right angles and tail circling to the left of the body to signify the rays of the sun. A very proper stance of balance, urVa broke from it only to straighten for a humble bow. "Yes, Master. To help the new growth this season."

The Master's smile peaked. "To mend and amend? Yes. A good choice for one who wishes forgiveness. I am aware you left the boundary of the Valley last night, as I am aware of your reasons."

Not needing to answer, urVa simply listened.

"You gave us your word that you would not leave, yet you did." The Master took in a great breath and let it out on a slow sigh. "You are not responsible for skekMal. That is one of the lessons to be learned from being apart. You are, however, responsible for yourself."

The Archer looked his master in the eyes and asked, "Am I?"

"Hm?" queried the Master.

"Am I responsible? That was the purpose of my vow. To show I am responsible for my actions and not a danger to any. Have I not proven this for many trine?"

The Master smiled and placed a hand on urVa's upper left shoulder before he shuffled away.

No answer. It was, regrettably, the tale of his existence. An enigma among his own people who-

"I would recommend Veil of Fog," the Master interrupted his thoughts, though the older urRu didn't turn or stop his plodding pace. "It should help."

The Archer's head swung toward the departing Master, his ample brows frozen upwards in large boughs of surprise. Veil of Fog? Such a meditation lasted for days, its chief use to clarify memories, thoughts, and emotions within a deeply transfixed state. It was not the duration nor purpose which deterred urVa. He had attempted Veil of Fog before and failed.

Though failure was a natural part of growth and understanding, urVa felt an inescapable sense of dread. Had he presumed wrong? Were his earlier actions truly irresponsible despite the intent? Perhaps due to his strong link to the control-crazed skekMal, or for his own short-comings, to fail again at Veil of Fog would mean his breach in trust had been in vain and that was unacceptable. To be urRu was to accept and he had mastered it in many respects. That did not include accepting his own deeply felt inadequacies.

Like it or not, the Master was correct. He must endure the course of Veil of Fog. Succeed or fail, urVa began the slow but artful dance of orienting his limbs in the positions of Solitude, Impermanence, Silence, Stillness, Eternity, Diligence, Absence and finally the lowering of his head to his chest, and his tail as the rudder of the journey: Acceptance. Completing the stance by arching his body, urVa entered each phase in turn and awaited the results of his efforts, be they positive or negative.


	4. Chapter 4

In the Great Hall, the procession toward their impatient Emperor's throne to bestow gifts and obtain favors proceeded with the usual pomp and flattery. Attendance was mandatory - for everyone but the Hunter - so skekLach had no choice. He did, however, wait until the very end to make his entrance.

In the meantime, from the edge of the corridor, he found pleasant distraction in listening to skekUng complain yet again.

"My most respected liege, I don't wish to question your judgment-"

"Then don't!" bellowed Emperor skekSo. "I'm tired of your complaints, Enforcer!"

If skekLach were so inclined, he'd have told skekUng why he never got favors from the Emperor, or why he wasn't promoted to the title of General after skekVar's death. It all had to do with presentation. The Enforcer hid little, carrying himself with too much importance - even around Emperor skekSo. It made his adulation insincere. Give the Enforcer too much power and he'd attempt to take over. The Collector made certain to feed these insights to Emperor skekSo. Oh, if skekUng ever found out! Not that he was afraid of the Enforcer. Glorified Gelfling Guard was more like it! How skekUng hated his job... He never brought anything but complaints to the Emperor.

"Get out of my sight!" shrieked Emperor skekSo, throwing a handful of some small, black foodstuffs at the Enforcer's retreating backside. "And don't come back until you bring me good reports, AND decent gifts!"

The Collector's mirth over the Enforcer's predicament fled when he realized the other's exit meant his required entrance. Mustering the full depths of his pride and confidence, skekLach left the shadowed corridor and entered the Great Hall. He kept his head high, his step sure, his arms full with the burden of a small wooden box as gift to the Emperor, and his gaze level to fully show off the patch covering his freshly-wounded left eye.

He ignored the first gasps of surprise. None but skekTek had known of the injury. He hadn't dared tell the Scientist the truth of what caused the gash which lost him his eye. It was enough of a blow to admit he'd needed help from the spineless Skeksis in the first place. No sense shortening his life by admitting the truth, for none knew where the Scientist's true loyalties lay. His gaze found the coward standing slightly behind skekShod the Treasurer. He expanded his lungs to hiss a warning at the Scientist to keep his beak shut but the grating whimper of pleased surprise from the Chamberlain shifted the focus of skekLach's threat and paused his step.

"Collector," the Ritual Master, ever at the Emperor's side, called him to the present in his deep gravelly voice. "Come. It is your turn."

The hiss became a deflated sigh as skekLach once more made his way toward the Emperor seated at the great throne. He stumbled slightly on his way to bow before the leader, nearly dropping his wooden box. Righting himself, skekLach attempted to ignore his gaff.

The ever-watchful eyes of the Emperor narrowed in greater scrutiny. His scepter lowered to point out skekLach's eye patch. "What happened to you?"

"... A minor accident with my darkhounds yesterday. I thank my gracious lord for his concern of which I am unworthy."

"My concern stems from wondering if you can still perform your duties, Collector."

"I assure you I am more than fit for whatever Your Highness requires." He bowed again, holding firm to the confidence in his tone.

Sifting through skekLach's words for any sort of harmful deceit, Emperor skekSo found none. "And? What have you to report? Or are you here to whine about your eye and make me demote you?"

The Collector bowed ever low to his sovereign, using the pause to collect his thoughts. He suspected the Emperor might react this way but he had little to offer. The insight into the General's killer had cost him an eye. If he simply blurted out such knowledge, would they all turn on him? Would they even dare believe him for fear of the Hunter's wrath? He couldn't say for sure and so proceeded as normal, rising with a smile and giving the Skeksis leader the one thing that might spare his hide. "My most glorious and resplendent Emperor, I come only to assure you that your Collector is ever fit and that I have made progress in my investigations."

Immediately interested, skekSo leaned closer and asked anxiously, "What have you found?"

The other gathered Skeksis mumbled and exchanged excited whispers as they, too, strained to hear.

"Such information is for Your Highness's ears only but for now I have brought you the head of the darkhound who took my eye." He presented the box at his ruler's feet.

Emperor skekSo dismissed the gift with a disdainful wave. "Is it urgent, the information you've found?"

"That is for Your Highness to decide." He bowed again, hiding his smile over his own tact. Bait the Emperor and all would fall into place. The loss of his weakest darkhound was well worth this power play.

Emperor skekSo rose with purpose, his scepter clutched high above his head. To those gathered about, he told them, "This farce is ended. Collector? You will join me in my study."

"Yes, Your Gracefulness."

As skekLach dutifully followed, he noted with frustration that skekZok the Ritual Master also accompanied the Emperor. That busybody of rules and rituals had the temperament and skill to divine the path of the remaining fifteen Skeksis. Only he knew the true way to speak to the Dark Crystal and gain insight into this world through its darkened heart. The Ritual Master often found order amongst the chaos Skeksis naturally created. It made him hard to decipher. His rulemongering made it even harder to use him to one's advantage. In other words, skekZok simply made things difficult.

At the threshold to Emperor skekSo's study, skekLach stood outside and waited while skekZok chimed all of the Emperor's glow crystals to full illumination. Even after the Ritual Master's sweep of the room revealed no foreign implements of spying, skekLach remained outside.

"Well? Come in!" The delay angered Emperor skekSo. It showed in his rough beckoning.

"As I said, my information is for Your Highness's ears only." And skekLach looked pointedly at skekZok, standing mere steps from the Emperor.

Emperor skekSo dismissed the Ritual Master with an impatient shooing gesture.

Shock covered skekZok's face. He opened his hands in a pleading manner, his deep voice protesting, "But... Your Grace-"

The Emperor whirled on the Ritual Master. His movements blindingly fast, he cracked the shaft of his scepter across the side of the other Skeksis' face. It was an act of dominance and not a blow at full force so skekZok's jaw was not broken. Standing over the cowed Ritual Master, the Emperor's words dealt the strongest blow. "Get. Out. **Now**."

As skekZok fled the Emperor's study, he glared daggers at skekLach who smirked.

The Collector hesitated no further and walked right up to the Emperor, remembering to lower himself due to being a few feathers taller than His Highness.

"So? What have you learned on the death of skekVar?" prompted the impatient Emperor.

"It no longer seems likely that a Gelfling killed him."

"Not a Podling either...?"

"No, Sire... One of us."

There fell a weighted silence in the Emperor's study. There should have been a reaction to such an horrific theory, but the Emperor said nothing. He stood motionless, staring at nothing. It became so deep a pause, it gave skekLach more than enough insight to make his guess. He had to know and so dared ask, "You know of whom I speak?"

Emperor skekSo's gaze flicked over to the Collector. "Many feel that skekZok is a pain but do you know his chief purpose?"

Taken aback by the seemingly unimportant question, skekLach couldn't help a delay in his reply. "Eh... The Ritual Master maintains our ways and traditions as well as-"

"He is here to monitor balance!" Emperor skekSo snapped. Then, with no apparent cause, all frustration left the Emperor. His shoulders relaxed and he strolled leisurely about his study as he explained, "I tolerate his rigidity because he is so very good at what he does. Balance allows us to maintain the veil of ignorance over the Gelfling and Podling populations, which sates our thirst for power, wealth, glory. Balance creates a river of plenty which runs straight to us." The Emperor took a moment to examine his ornate scepter. He held it out before him, turned it horizontal, and expertly tossed it up to balance precariously on the back of his hand. "Lately, there have been growing disruptions in the balance. Now the death of the General." He made the scepter dip far one direction but not so great a tip that it slipped from his control. "The Ritual Master believes our imbalance so great, we are teetering on the edge of annihilation. He's been constantly at my side like one of your darkhounds. Though I don't support all of his strict notions, I do understand this: We are out of sync, Collector, and something must be done or our position as governors of Thra will be eradicated; either by our own destructive natures or by some other mountain of chaos hurtling toward us which we are too blind see."

Rarely witness to the thought processes of Emperor skekSo, skekLach could only stare in awe. One might think on the outset the Skeksis chief a power-hungry insatiable, swift-acting beast. He was that, but the Collector knew beneath that terrifying exterior lay a calculating and brilliant mind and those aspects combined were what won him Emperorship initially and had allowed him to retain it ever since. skekLach remained entranced by Emperor skekSo's thought process as the leader continued.

"It's another of skekZok's gifts; being able to see past ourselves. He isn't blinded by our very nature. He was first to see one among us who's nature is to create an overabundance of imbalance."

Feeling his lack of input might make him seem dense or weak, skekLach spoke during the Emperor's next breath. "I have come to the same conclusion, Sire."

Flipping the scepter upright and clutching it tightly to his chest, Emperor skekSo shook his head and continued on as if he hadn't heard. "The unsettling way in which the General died, the loss of a key figure in our campaign of control over Thra, the disruption of our rituals with the absence of one of our numbers since he refuses to attend any but the Sun Ritual... These cannot go uncorrected." The Emperor's usual shrewd face reappeared. "There are, unfortunately, rules which must be adhered to. I cannot simply put him to death. We saw long ago, during the Great Division, that we cannot incite violence upon each other lest the madness take hold and exact our own extinction. We fight it daily as it is and, thanks to skekZok's rituals and patterns, we have maintained that balance for nearly a hundred trine. Now this comes along..." Again, the Emperor's demeanor altered abruptly. The sovereign met his gaze and grinned slyly. "Has your eye been tended to properly?"

"Yes, Your Highness." Though why he would care to ask...

"Good. I want my Collector fit for his next extremely important task."

He didn't like the sound of that. "May I ask what this new task entails, Sire?"

"You are to bring down skekMal the Hunter, permanently, but without harming him yourself. We are at a moment of great instability since the death of the General and cannot let our numbers remain at the awkward fifteen we are now. He's nearly as clever as I. If he hasn't figured it out yet, he'll soon know you're on to him. Either way, losing him or losing you, our numbers will be balanced out again."

Deciding that their talk was concluded, Emperor skekSo swept from his study.

True anxiety rose in skekLach at the Emperor's words. So, it didn't matter which one of them died as long as one did. Well, his recent injury had reminded him of the horrors of pain and suffering, humiliation and weakness. He vowed to use that fresh insight to help trap and forever silence the Hunter.


	5. Chapter 5

After half a day considering his options and unable to reach a definitive plan, skekLach sighed within the Hall of Reflection. His exhalation chimed off the myriad reflective planes of crystal cleavage dominating the hall which garnered its name. He'd come looking for inspiration but all he saw was himself eventually being torn apart by the Emperor for not carrying out his task fast enough, or poisoned by skekMal once the Hunter found out the plot against him.

That was the problem, the paradox. Skeksis weren't to kill one another. He had no hunting skills, nor the strong wordcraft of the Satyrist or the Chamberlain. What he had were a keen sense of collecting knowledge, materials, a pair of strong hands and a pack of obedient animals; the last of which could not directly be used on skekMal. Overtaking the Hunter without a physical confrontation could prove difficult.

Laughing and loud talking from two approaching Gelfling Guards interrupted his thoughts. They were not expecting anyone else to be in the Hall of Reflection, for they choked on their guffaws and sobered appropriately upon seeing a Skeksis, bowing low to him.

"Forgive the intrusion, Lord Governor skekLach," the taller, older one stammered out.

"It's quite alright," the Collector replied in their language, appearing genuinely relaxed around the pair. He bowed in kind and stepped aside for them to pass. "Forgive the interruption in your patrol."

Each Gelfling bowed again and hurried past.

The Collector, always seeking opportunity, leaned an earhole into the next hall to listen in on their exiting chatter.

"Did you see him bow? To **us**? Bek will be jealous! When will I meet the one in charge of Gelfling patrol assignments?"

"Calm down. You're showing your inexperience. You'll see him once we're done along this route but you contain yourself. He is a lot less... friendly. And about Bek, are you going to help on the hunt as well? It's not like Bek can really take on a full-grown wyrok by himself."

The laughter which followed that comment grew faint as the Gelfling pair moved on.

Collaboration. Working together. An alliance. That was his answer. He slipped from the reflective room, in search of a prospective partner in crime.

It had to be someone just smart enough not to get caught, someone who believed in exterminating skekMal, but also who could be a scapegoat once the time came. In the end, the self-importance and strength of skekUng made him a prime candidate to approach, cautiously.

Oh, skekUng wasn't hard to find. He'd be in his small office, as usual. The Collector wondered if that were one reason for skekUng detesting his job - the lack of moving about. Or perhaps he simply hated working around Gelfling and babysitting the ones allowed in the castle. It was a necessary function to let the indigenous in; a function dating back to right after they'd settled from the Great Division. More an honorary post for Gelfling, skekUng's job was to monitor not just the guard contingent under him but also report on their mentality and opinions. Perhaps the importance of keeping Gelfling content and unaware escaped skekUng and he'd prefer to use his time toward garnering more favor with the Emperor? What skekUng didn't realize - along with the fact that skekLach worked vigorously and in secret to keep him as the Gelfling Guard Monitor - was how to use his true gifts. After seeing the ease at which skekUng could compose himself into a formidable force and throw his weight around, skekLach realized early on it'd only be a matter of time before that one would be plowing his way toward eventual Emperorship. As skekLach (and every other Skeksis) wanted that for himself, he of course used this observation to his advantage to get closer to the Emperor. More than the Chamberlain, more so than even the Ritual Master, skekLach believed he alone held the Emperor's ear. Not that it mattered now when he needed the aid of one who he secretly undermined.

The Collector approached the Enforcer's office archway and waited patiently as the two Gelfling he'd previously encountered gave a verbal report. The cranky Skeksis sat imposingly hunched over a small desk covered in a disarray of scrolls, looking the very picture of barely contained loathing. When the report concluded, the Enforcer waved the pair away in an overly gruff manner.

Given his current state of mind, skekLach entered with caution and a scheme.

He was seen, and glared at. "What do **you** want?" demanded skekUng.

"Just a little chat; in private."

"Why?" Thick suspicion coated the single word.

"The information I collected for the Emperor wasn't as well received as I'd hoped. If you'd like to know, meet me at my kennel."

"Why come to me?" The Enforcer's eyes narrowed in scrutiny of his words but interest showed through.

"Because I need a Skeksis of action, of strength, and the Emperor is ignoring this crime entirely. If **we** deal with this matter, perhaps the Emperor's hold on the others will weaken enough for him to be challenged by an opponent more worthy of leading? Don't think we haven't noticed the Emperor demoting you to this degrading position."

With every sentence, skekUng's anger grew. When skekLach turned and left the seething Enforcer, he was completely certain he'd worked up skekUng enough to get the desired outcome.

Down in the lower portions of the Castle where the carved teeth of Screesh fed the Black River and opened onto the desolation of Thra, a portion of that tunnel held the kennel for skekLach's darkhounds. They were a vicious breed which appeared shortly after the Crystal darkened and needed to be kept in separate cages even after extensive training. Otherwise they'd tear each other apart. One could easily have taken his eye except for the fact that their training had been so severe, they wouldn't dare touch him. Even now, their black eyes tracked him warily, their hairy bodies shrinking away from the cage door. Submissive enough, yes, but he hadn't fully gained their trust. More training to be done before they were ready to assist his patrols for prized individuals to supplement the Emperor's growing need for the essence of living sentient creatures. For now, they were excellent at sniffing out spies.

Just after their feeding, they looked up as one, hackles raised, low growls in their throats. Turning slightly, skekLach made out one individual approaching. How gratifying it was to see the Enforcer's scowling face come after the bait he'd set. The Collector wondered briefly if this was the thrill the Hunter felt when trapping prey.

The darkhounds snapped and growled as the other Skeksis drew near.

The Enforcer grunted at them. His gaze shifted to the watching skekLach. "What is it you've uncovered?"

Because skekUng was naturally impatient, he decided to not string a lot of fancy pre-talk. "The Hunter poisoned skekVar. He also threatened me and took my eye. He is also the one who's been at the Emperor's ear keeping you in your current dismal occupation which is so ill-suited, you will likely be banished for your incompetence."

The Enforcer's bushy brows rose higher in shock and rage at each statement.

"The Emperor is just as scared of him as the rest of us and refuses to address the matter. He ignores the upset to the delicate balance we have here. It is the greatest crime for one of us to murder another, yet the Hunter goes unpunished! I say something must be done!" He slammed a fist into his other hand for emphasis.

The Enforcer's eyes narrowed to fine pinpoints catching what light lingered in the secluded kennel. "Yes, something. I say the same something he's already done."

"I'd agree with you. Fitting punishment; but it cannot be us. There's no telling what shift in the balance it'd cause."

"It **won't** be us," assured the Enforcer. "And who's to say the balance won't shift back to our favor? The Hunter must die so the rest of us can live without fear."

"But how? When we cannot exact such a sentence..." Best to play dumb and let skekUng believe he was the deciding force.

"Simple. If **we** can't kill him, we get someone else who can. Someone like Gelfling."

He'd come to the same conclusion? Perhaps skekUng was smarter than the Collector thought. "And you have someone specific in mind?"

"Any one will do. One of the guards here..." The Enforcer's words trailed away as the Collector's darkhounds began to whine. "What's wrong with them?"

The Collector whirled on his animals, shocked at the irritating sound they refused to cease even when he rattled the bars of the kennel. It grated on the nerves and reminded him of another annoying whine...

That irritating whimper preceded skekSil sliding from the shadows. He had his knowing grin in place.

"Spying on **us**? That pointy beak goes everywhere it doesn't belong. I should punch it in so you can pose as the Gourmand's look-alike," skekUng threatened, raising a capable fist and stepping forward.

The Collector stood between them before a physical confrontation started, though he was no less furious. "Chamberlain! You shadow-tramp! Belly-crawler! What did you overhear?" One reason he loathed the weakling was his annoying habit of getting into everyone's business. No telling who he'd give such information to either.

"Oh, I'd be more concerned with someone else overhearing what you are plotting. Someone with a bent toward stalking prey, eh? I could, and I will, unless you allow me to help you. You need a proper spy, someone to know his whereabouts, use local fauna to track him, yes?"

That was it then. The Chamberlain had used the darkhounds to spy on their meeting. That meant he'd heard it all.

The Collector stomped up to the Chamberlain and grabbed him by his elaborately ruffled cuffs, yanking the smaller Skeksis off the ground. "Do not threaten me, dull-plume, or I'll convince the Hunter this was all **your** idea. At least I am respected. Everyone **hates** you." He released skekSil with a shove to the ground. To skekUng he said, "We will continue this later."

"Agreed," the Enforcer growled, sneering at the Chamberlain as both he and the Collector strode away with fierce strides.

The empty herb satchel flapped against her covered wings and didn't bother Hedda as she dashed through the Dark Wood toward the Black River. Braided sable hair flew out behind her like four long tails. Her eyes darted about the rich foliage whipping by. Matriarch Meb sent her specifically on this task. The Woodland Clan leader knew of Hedda's knowledge of the forest. The herbalist had a knack for finding rare ingredients. Meb wanted something extra special prepared this festival and Hedda didn't want to disappoint.

 _Ah-ha!_ Hedda stopped in her tracks and crouched in the mossy grass to examine her find.

"Is it this one?" Young Enid rushed over with a small shrub. The poor thing's roots thrashed and twisted in response to being dug up. When the tendrils wound their way about his arm, he panicked and tried shaking them off. "Aaahh! Hedda! It's got me!"

Enid was decidedly the most unskilled Gelfling at herbalism she'd ever seen. She was fairly certain the only reason he begged to come along was because he liked her. Such a silly boy. She was twice his age!

Shaking her head at Enid's futile attempts to unwind the grabgrass, Hedda reached over and broke off a single blade of green from the tangled mess. In reaction, the grabgrass let go of Enid's arm and spun furiously to escape. By that time, Enid was glad to simply let the thing go and eyed it warily as it spun into the upper canopy.

"That's not pepperdark. We're looking for leaves that are black and gray, not all green. Like this one." She pointed out the proper plant, nestled at the base of the graywood tree she stood under.

"Oh. Er, sorry. They do look completely different." Enid scratched the back of his head. "Um, how much of it do we need?"

"Only a little," Hedda replied, kneeling again with her small knife ready. "It's got a powerful flavor. Wyth is what we need the most of."

"And what's that one look like again?"

As she patiently explained to Enid again what they were after, she realized she'd have gotten this done faster without him. She'd only herself to blame. It wasn't like he boasted about a knowledge of the plant life in the Dark Wood.

"Hey, look at that." Enid moved behind her and squatted down. When he stood again, he held a medium-sized crystal crab. The thing kicked and snapped but it seemed Enid was much more familiar with animals and how to hold this kind so as not to get pinched.

"Good catch. We can add it to Meb's pot for the festival." Hedda snicked her sampling of pepperdark, then turned to look over Enid's prize. "It will take a while to prepare but the purple ones have great flavor."

Smiling happily at the value of his catch, Enid followed wherever Hedda led.

With him occupied by the crab, she had plenty of time to collect the wyth.

Hedda liked being depended on just as if she were a senior member of the clan but that didn't mean she was averse to fun. In a burst of sudden mirth, she couldn't help grinning playfully Enid's way. "I'll race you back!"

That was all the warning he got before she took off.

"Hey!" was his futile yell as he tried to catch up while managing the crystal crab.

Hedda laughed at the fun of showing up Enid and delighted in the feel of the wet dirt and life beneath her feet as they pounded on. She was just hitting her stride when something caught her foot and sent her face-first into the ground.

"Hedda!" Enid cried, rushing to her. "Are you hurt?"

Spitting out mud and root bits, she sat up. "No. I don't think so. I tripped on something..."

Scanning the area behind her, Hedda spied something out of place amongst the foliage. Brown leather, long and thin and well-worn. She picked it up and found it attached to a small pouch.

"Is that a satchel?" Enid asked when she picked it up to examine it closer.

"Yes. A very small one."

Hedda undid the little clasp and looked in. At the bottom lay a collection of tiny feathers which sparkled gold and silver where light touched them.

"Look at this." Enid pointed with his free hand. On the back of the pouch part, it bore an insignia of three flower petals in a triangular configuration.

Hedda recognized it instantly. "That's the mark of the Vapra. Let's take it to Meb now. The Vapra Matriarch is visiting with five members of her entourage. One of them must have dropped it."


	6. Chapter 6

The road to inner enlightenment had not length nor duration nor an end; only the potential for understanding and accepting oneself. There were no pitfalls except one's own misgivings, no opponent but one's own negativity. There, within a veil of meditative fog, one could sift memories for truths long lost to the past.

Memories did come to urVa, who was too deep in the Fog to realize his success at attempting the meditation. They were watery impressions at first, or indistinct voices, but the nature of the Fog coalesced them into perfectly clear recollections:

It had taken a hand of days to determine a suitable type of tree for his purpose, another hand of days to locate a grove of such trees which lay beyond the protection of the Valley of the Stones, and one more day to procure just the right limb. Still more days were required to contemplate the shape, the grain, the flow of the single graywood tree branch he brought back. More were needed to seek the proper type of stringing material and to study the length of wood and determine the nature of the patterns he would carve in, seen from deep within a dream to be brought out onto the surface only after yet more days of meditation.

With each step in the process, urVa remained alone. Especially among his brethren, for they at least shared the commonality of purpose which frequently eluded him.

"Why do you go?" urSol asked him at the start of his journey. "You need not leave to find what you seek. It is dangerous."

He merely shook his head at the Chanter, dismayed that he could not convey what he felt, what he was driven to do, in a way his brothers could understand. They'd sought and found their purpose through meditation. So long had it eluded him. Then, to find it in a dream and he leave the Valley to craft the tools of his once-elusive profession, he'd been pushed even further apart from his brother urRu.

He remembered sinking further into solitude the day when the crafting was completed. He had held the implement in his upper right hand. It felt so right. Like a taste of balance and harmony he so craved but which so often slipped through his fingers. He'd smiled, for the first time since the Great Division.

He remembered the others looking on with a great raise of brows and growing worry furrowing their faces.

Only urSu came to him to address all their concerns. Looking on the object with unbiased eyes, he'd asked with only curiosity, "Why do you do this?"

He sighed deeply, looking at the weapon he'd crafted. "I cannot deny what sings within my heart. The Cook, urAmaj, creates dishes to stir one's very being, urUtt may fashion garments which evoke and embody our very lives, urLii delights and teaches with story to remind of the past and help us to keep looking toward a better future. I do this," and he held up the bow, hefting the weight expertly. "...to find my way."

The most difficult part in finding himself was not the separation he endured during his journey of self-discovery but when it came time to fashion the ammunition which generally accompanied his chosen implement. The difficulty was emotional, not physical. He told his brothers his intent and their reactions were strong and negative. They did not speak up against the construction of the bow but this was another matter altogether.

"It will be fired once a day and it shall only pierce the sky, to be caught by the same hand which let it loose." He spoke this to reassure them of his plans but their worried faces and mumbles spoke only of doubt.

"How can you guarantee that it will not pierce flesh, even by accident? This is not a tool we can approve of, urVa. What if...?" the Peacekeeper's voice failed him in a moment of rare wordlessness.

"It will not come to that." Showing the certainty he felt, urVa looked at the bow in his hand, felt the string resting upon his upper arm, gripped the solidarity of his quiver which would in time contain the single arrow. "See this as a set of spoons urAmaj uses. See this as urAk's quills and ink, or urSol's chants. We all have our tools, urMa. I am an archer adept and these are mine. I believe there to be reason in what feels right, even if it is not clear at this time. Patience, Peacekeeper."

He meditated at great length on the duality of the impulse inside him, on his own somber agreeance with his brothers that to create weapons was not in their nature, and to question whether his sanity was leaving him. He was often seen for days in a single stance of contemplation.

Madness, even in urRu, was a possibility, given that two pair were lost right at the Great Division. None knew exactly what had gone through their minds, those two Skeksis who chose to attack and in doing so discovered quite suddenly that to do so would also end the lives of the urRu's counterparts. Perhaps they'd been driven mad, and their urRu otherhalves complaisant to let death take them and end any future tyranny from their Skeksis double. He did not know. He knew only his own ruminations and insights, his own revelations. When he had raised his new head and turned and saw his own other half, skekMal, an instant connection sparked between them.

His Skeksis counterpart made no move nor any sound. He merely grinned. The evil face of skekMal looked at him and saw what he was only beginning to realize at the time. Unlike his brothers, urVa was frequently assaulted by a need to capture. Like an itch he could not scratch unless he was at the very least meditating on where best to do his search, he found relief only when in pursuit of something.

Though the will of all urRu ran stronger than any twine he could ever hope to find for his bowstring, urVa would not deny his own weakness. Much time was spent attempting to reason with himself and seek a plan of action to curtail such foreign inclinations. The culmination had been a clear vision of perfect form which stuck in his mind until he had no choice but to seek its creation. Hence the hunt for the perfect materials to craft his bow.

After a short time with it in his company, the bow by itself no longer invoked soul harmony. The troubled urVa sought guidance from his urRu brothers but they had all found their place. Being in the storm, and not within the same calm as they, left him impatient at their slow deliberations. In the end, they recommended deeper meditation and a visit from urNol the Herbalist.

It was urGoh who suggested they venture out together to seek their peace amongst the wilderness. That brother had recently been dubbed the Wanderer, for his intrinsic nature to explore often made him venture past the boundaries of their haven. He welcomed urGoh's notion, and his company.

Their day of travel was slow, as was becoming the usual for the methodic and purposeful mobility of urRu, but at least not silent.

"I believe I may understand, brother," the Wanderer spoke up shortly after passing the Guarding Stone which marked their exit out of the Valley.

He looked over at urGoh.

"I, too, seek, which is a reflection of the desires of my counterpart, skekGra the Conqueror."

He nodded and kept plodding on, for only in actual pursuit did he find a stitch of relief.

"You do not wish to speak of this?" queried urGoh.

"It is difficult," urVa admitted. "I was second oldest amongst you all. Now I feel as if a young fish, flopping helplessly to find my place in this world."

"And your... implement?" He indicated the bow slung across urVa's back. Like the others, urGoh was uncomfortable in its presence.

"Despite what it is, I feel purpose when holding it. I cannot deny that this feels right, just as I cannot deny it is a weapon and something we naturally do not harbor a use in. And yet, my search today is for the synchronous pairing of limb and stone willing to be shaped into the accompanying ammunition."

The Wanderer hummed a resonant sigh which spoke of understanding the wisdom of the words but had within it the undertones of one's inability to truly grasp the full meaning in the paradox.

Pointless to say anything further, nothing more passed between them until they came to a small grove of graywood trees. The same wood as his bow, urVa went to each tree and sang to coax out the one limb which would lend itself to his crafting needs. The sixth tree made the offering, which he thanked it for.

The Wanderer excused himself to wander while urVa sat and brought out the shaping tool which let the inner voice come through as elaborate patterns upon the wood shaft. Their meanings were spoken to him with each whisper of the slim wood chisel. Tendrils to speak of the life of the tree, spirals of urVa's own nature looped in, and finally a tiny pictograph detailing an intertwined Skeksis and urRu - skekMal and himself.

He prepared the fletching from a clump of crestcomb found nearby ( having decided not to use a bird's feathers ) and contemplated the designs worked into the shaft while whittling a notch for the arrowhead. Unlike the similar spirals and graywood tendrils decorating the gentle recurve of the bow, the likeness of himself and his Skeksis counterpart was for the arrow alone. They intertwined at the base near the notch. urVa took a moment to study the design and contemplate the meaning of what his hands had carved as if by their own mind. Did the arrow represent the splitting of the two individuals? Or perhaps-

Rapid shuffing through forest growth broke urVa from his thoughts and snapped his head in the direction of the ruckus. Bounding out of the greenery came urGoh. The Archer was on his feet before any explanation tumbled from the frantic Wanderer's lips.

"We must flee! They mean to capture us!"

Right behind urGoh, two Skeksis burst forth in pursuit. The taller and more menacing Skeksis tackled urGoh. They tumbled, struggling, the shorter Skeksis watching.

Having not been spotted, urVa crept up, nocked his arrow shaft, drew his bow, and leveled his sights on the lead Skeksis. "Let him go," he commanded.

The short, stout Skeksis whirled. He greatly resembled urSan the Swimmer and was also missing a finger on his right hand so he must be the Mariner, skekSa.

The Mariner eyed the armed urRu cautiously.

The unknown Skeksis grappling urGoh ignored the Archer and pulled rope from a deep belt pouch to bind his catch.

The Archer had seen enough. He drew back the bow, the power behind the straining string filling urVa with a great sense of right. It felt natural and good, as did the release of his fledgling arrow.

Even without a head, it pierced the Skeksis neatly through the thigh. His intended target let loose a guttural shriek of pain, echoed by urGoh!

The injured Skeksis released urGoh, gripped the arrow in trembling hands, and ripped it from his leg. He managed to suppress another scream but his urRu counterpart did not. A grin of triumph laced the injured one's beak. The arrow clattered to the ground as the tall Skeksis reached once more to possess his other half.

Pointing the tip of the bow toward the tall and threatening Skeksis, urVa said, "Leave, and tell your brethren they will not find it so easy to attack us next time. You may tell them urVa the Archer makes that statement."

Shock covered both Skeksis' faces at the mention of his name.

"UrVa?" the injured one uttered, fear on his breath.

"We can't linger." The Mariner, previously stunned by the events before him, came up under the injured Skeksis' arm and hauled him into an about-face. "That's skekMal's other half!"

As the two Skeksis retreated, there was no need to make good on urVa's statement.

Focusing on urGoh, and the wound he'd inadvertently caused, urVa knelt by his brother in solemn apology. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize who he was..."

"It shouldn't matter who." Though pain filled the Wanderer's eyes, the emotional hurt and disappointment were equally visible. "Just help me home."

Gladly he lent his arms to support urGoh but the silence he endured on the walk back to the Valley was nearly as great a torture as the repercussions garnered from his actions.

As soon as they were within the safety of the Valley of the Stones, urVa saw the Master waiting quietly on the upper walk for them. As if he knew... He probably did. Yet as they passed - in a rush to see urIm the Healer - he said nothing to either of them.

The disquiet brought in by their frantic return followed urVa down into the bottom of their Valley and lingered, spreading darkly as he explained to one and one told the events to the next and so forth. When a meeting was called that evening, he as the focus, urVa attended without surprise or fear.

"You, urVa, attacked a Skeksis. Even when provoked, we do not intentionally cause harm."

The full weight of urZah the Ritual Guardian's disapproval carried from his voice to urVa's shoulders. Other voices rose up to offer similar statements of disappointment and fear. The Archer sagged under the burden until urSu the Master placed his staff in his lower right hand and held his upper arms high for silence.

The others quieted.

The Master spoke. "Despite how it has come about, he has found his role. May he now be known as urVa the Archer, and let him speak his side."

Lower arms out in a gesture of entreaty, urVa dipped his head. "My brother was attacked by two Skeksis, one of which was skekGra though I did not recognize him. I did wound him when he would not release urGoh, unintentionally inflicting the same on my brother..." Guilt, disappointment, and fear fell on urVa like the heaviest stones. "I saw no other way, and for that reason I vow never to leave the Valley again. Until I have mastered seeing all paths, all options, I will not leave..."

Fresh sadness rose because of this memory. It distracted, blurred the recollection. He was losing his focus, losing the Veil! Reasserting calm drained away the invasive sadness. He awaited the next memory and slipped again into the Fog.


End file.
